Bitter
by CretianStar
Summary: Sherlock Holmes ruined her life. The little psychopathic freak! T for swears.


A/N: Okay it's not like I have an essay due Friday, or exams in three weeks... you know who cares! So have a little nugget that shows how much I hate Sally Donovan.

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Sally was seething, Greg had been ecstatic when Sherlock returned from the dead and had a spring in his step since the freak came back to New Scotland Yard. Instantly Greg had offered him a range of cases that were making them scratch their heads much to Sally's irritation. She'd been through the damn ringer because of that psychopath and almost lost everything.

While she'd thought she would be jubilant when that pest jumped off the roof of the hospital, it had all gone downhill – she and Anderson had been thoroughly investigated by Internal Affairs, one individually commissioned board _and_ one on the behalf of the British government. Greg had been through the same rigmarole but had been distraught at the death of Sherlock. Sally also strongly suspected that Greg had been vouched for by the mysterious elder Holmes brother that occasionally visited NSY.

Sally on the other hand had had every aspect of her job nosed through, every case looked at, every comment, every interview. Her name was thrown into the papers, life scrutinised by the media that had hounded Sherlock before his leap and it was only natural that those bloody jounralists would find out about Anderson. Her affair was fully revealed in the coming months. His wife booted him out a divorce was soon rolling through the courts. In theory, it was just what Sally had always wanted. But living with Philip was bloody impossible. IA had naturally done a number on Phil, who's mental capacity and coping defences were not as strong as hers; he was a mess. He was guilt ridden at the thought of that he had driven another man to his death. Even if at the time they believed Sherlock to be guilty. Mrs Anderson was taking him for every penny he had in the divorce and Sally was furious that this emotional mess of a man was living off of her with barely a penny to his name.

It was made ten times worse when everything Richard Brook actually turned out to be James Moriarty and everything went to pot. There was another investigation and the media went wild with the news. Anderson got a little worse and was signed off with emotional stress – Sally was not there to care for a baby, and in her bitterness focused on the one thing that had ruined her life, Sherlock fucking Holmes.

She threw Anderson out when he started his bloody fanclub, "The Empty Hearse" and she'd almost lost everything because of that freak. She'd almost lost her job, her boyfriend, her flat, her life was vanishing into a Sherlock Holmes shaped whirlpool and there was fuck all she could do about it. Apart from Greg, Sally Donovan really did have nothing in her life – she'd taken harassment from colleagues about Anderson before Richard Brooks turned out to be nothing more than an alias but now, now it was worse. It wasn't harassment, it was cold contempt for the curly haired woman.

All in all, she was fucking miserable.

"Something the matter Donovan?" A rich deep voice, froze her actions as she slowly changed from work. The familiar silhouette in the corner of her eye started a fire in her chest and the anger made her lip curl. "Come along Donovan, you've stopped sleeping with Anderson, you're in here well past your finishing time and you're on the firing range with a handbag full of paperwork."

She turned to stare at the life ruiner himself and glared, he flicked the light on and the soft light from the hallway switched to harsh fluorescents.

"Fuck off freak." She opened her locker door, turning away from him before she punched him.

"You think this is my fault?" He barked out a laugh. "I am not the reason you are miserable, you wallow in a mixture of self loathing and self pity which is why you opted for the bright pink shirt, you decided you wanted to show people you don't care what they say. But you hid it behind a black blazer because you know what they are saying about you and that they'll see you regardless of that pink shirt.

The bottom button on the shirt is not done up, but it's not because of sex or frisky fun in the filing cupboard, but because you could not be bothered this morning as you were in well before anyone else. You never like to come in early, you were Lestrade's second which means you have to be in early which proposes two things; the first is that you are no longer his second and you're now on a boring desk duty but then why would you be on the firing range – desk job = no gun. The second option is that people are expecting you to do the extra work because you were an idiot with Moriarty." Sherlock finished, watching her eyes blaze in the harsh light and she opened her mouth when he finished his tirade.

"Get out." She screamed, hurling her deodorant can at his head. Naturally he ducked and it clanged on the brick behind him.

"I've been told to be nicer to you because you are suffering at the moment." He did that weird look thing where she knew he was analysing everything about her.

"Why?" She asked quietly.

"Lestrade knows you're suffering but you won't let him help you." She opened her mouth again but he held up one finger. "He regularly brings you coffee but you don't drink it, he's pre signed off on forms you have to fill in and he was the one that vouched for you in the interview with my brother." Her gaze had turned to questioning. "I walked through the office, past your desk where there is one white cup of coffee, completely empty but with three different tidal marks that mean you have refilled and used the same cup but there are three Costa takeaway cups with a lot of coffee left in them that Lestrade always favours. The forms are in your in-tray and the last thing I knew because my brother informed me." He nodded curtly and turned to leave.

She was incredulous. Angry. Annoyed. Strangely calm.

"You ruined everything freak." She shouted as he turned to walk out. "You ruined everything!"

"It is not my fault you were sleeping with Anderson, DS Donovan. That is entirely your fault, as is being fooled by James Moriarty, you wanted me to be the bad guy so badly you failed to see what happened in front of your eyes." Sherlock's voice was quiet and this time she left him leave, flicking off the harsh lights as he walked away.

Sinking onto the bench Sally shook in frustration.

He ruined her life.

End of.


End file.
